


Tangomango Volume 1: The First Pirates

by Alice_h



Category: Tangomango, Wakfu
Genre: Adaptation of the Comic, Gen, Pirates, Translation, Wakfu heroes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:35:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23770921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alice_h/pseuds/Alice_h
Summary: Tangomango never got an official English version, so I'm translating it in the form of a story.





	Tangomango Volume 1: The First Pirates

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Tangomango Tome 1: Les Premiers Pirates](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/609622) by Adriàn. 



> I would definitely recommend buying the original, the art is great and you'll be able to follow this a little better.

Book 1: The First Pirates

‘In the vast white sea, further south than the most southerly islands on the World of Twelve, you’ll find a little bit of shallow ocean. The water there is crystal clear and warm, the sand white as snow and the coral reefs vast and old. This paradise is called the Eaux Tièdes (Warm Waters). You rarely hear anyone talk about the place; it’s situated far from any big towns, months away by sea. Zaap portal technology hasn’t yet reached there, for better or worse. In the Eaux Tièdes, you’ll find at least a hundred islands and atolls, some smaller than a house and others big enough to contain jungles, mountains and swaps.’

“It’s the perfect setting for a pirate story, don’t you think?” an old man with messy white hair and a beard to match sits in a chair on the beach, a quill in his hand hovering over the parchment he holds on a piece of wood over his knees, “And yes, pirates have always crossed these waters, as far as one can go. From the Archipelago of the Three Washerwomen to the Pier of the Washerman, they’ve attacked the boats of rich merchants, or ships full of the gold and jewellery of the Governor.”

The man stands up, crossing the sand to where the shade of a palm tree is cooling a green glass bottle, which he picks up and swigs from, “And they took shelter in the most remote islands to bury their treasure and then party under the moon, dancing and drinking greedo rum until they passed out. Then they come round the next morning, burnt by the sun and with a horrible headache.

“But I digress. I was saying that in the Eaux Tièdes, there have always been pirates,” he sits back on the chair, picking up his pen and paper again and continuing his story.

‘Until around the year 972 in the Wakfu era, when the Governor was killed by myxomawose et was succeeded by Poupo Mogrovejo. This new Governor would turn out to be the worst scourge, more terrible than the most terrible of hurricanes. A man obsessed with order and discipline, Poupo decided the moment he arrived upon the throne of Nao La Grande, the capital of the Eaux Tièdes: to end piracy. The pirates couldn’t match his powerful fleet and one by one, they were annihilated. They resisted weakly until that final battle, where the last grand pirate, Auralis, was killed. Thus commenced a new era in the Eaux Tièdes, an era of repression and tyranny.

However, the sun still shined bright in the sky and its reflection in the clear waters still evoked dreams of sailing the seas. Piracy flowed through the veins of this old place, because piracy was freedom, and freedom was deeply ingrained in the Eaux Tièdes. These first pirates, the old indigenous people called them Tangomango.

* * *

_The year 982, somewhere in the Eaux Tièdes…_

The clear water makes barely a splash as a dark-haired young girl dives down towards the coral-lined sea floor. She explores around, holding her breath as she hides behind the coral to spy on her prey, a zordfish laying asleep on the sand below. As she nears the fish, its eyes shoot open and, realising the girl’s intentions, it speeds away from her. It’s fast, but not as fast as the kid; she intercepts it, the dagger in her hand swiftly piercing between the fish’s eyes for a swift death. With her meal in hand, the girl swims back to the surface, gasping for air the moment she can breathe it in, and arrives on a white sandy beach, where a dilapidated ship sits on a makeshift dry dock.

Placing the fish aside, the girl wrings her hair to get as much water out as she can, loosely tying the end with a piece of red fabric, and putting on a matching red bandana. She pulls on a pair of red and black striped culottes, traipsing over the sand to the ship, which flies a black skull and crossbones flag. She looks up to the bow, shielding her face from the burning sun.

“What are you doing just stood there, sailor?!” Black Ink, a Kralove in a pirate hat, yells down towards her, “Do you think all this work will do itself?! If you think you can laze around the whole day, you’ve got another thing coming, Missy!”

With a smile, the Kralove’s entire mood changes and he leans over the edge of the ship, “What’s for lunch, Elaine?”

She holds up the fish she caught moments ago, and the sight of it somewhat angers the Kralove. He throws his hat to the ground in protest, “Zordfish?! Again?”

Saying nothing, Elaine turns away to stoke up a fire to begin cooking on. Moments later, Black Ink is running across the sand in her direction, catching up with her as she’s about to put the fish over the flame.

“I’m going to end up transforming into a zordfish!”

The girl shrugs, “It’s better than nothing. And it’s pretty good grilled.”

“It’s tastier, that’s for sure. And it looks a bit like tofu.”

Shortly after, with their meal finished, the pair sit around the fire, the youngster looking up at ship behind them.

“She’s still just as impressive, captain,” she says, her attention captured by the boat looming large over them.

Black Ink turns in his chair to match her eyeline, “Do you remember when we found it? She was a complete wreck, but the structure was still intact – and I know how to spot a good boat when I see one. When she’s finished, she’ll be a real beauty… as fast as a bird and as robust as a tree.”

“And we’ll leave this little hideout to scour the length and breadth of the Eaux Tièdes!”

“And attack the big merchants!” he matches her enthusiasm.

“And take them for every last kama!”

“And live a life of luxury, laid on a beach!”

“Every day without having to do a single thing!”

The Kralove raises a coconut shell, the milk sloshing around inside and Elaine follows suit, “Exactly! A toast to our boat!”

“To our boat!” they say in unison, bumping the coconut shells together.

* * *

Atop a windy hill, Black Ink sits reading a book under the shade of a solitary tree. It’s the highest point on the island, and the breeze provides welcome relief from the heat, and the perfect place to relax with a good story. Unfortunately, this time, his rest is interrupted by a shout of “Captain!” from below.

“I’m here, my girl,” he shouts back, not wanting to move from his spot.

She holds up a list of the tasks she’s been given, “I’ve finished!”

“Coming!” that’s enough motivation to get him in motion, and he almost jumps the entire height of the hill on his way down, landing in the water below and swimming up to the edge of the sand, where the youngster sports a fancy, flowing white dress, “Where did you find that?”

Elaine beams a smile, “In a chest inside the boat. It’s pretty, don’t you think?”

“I don’t know, you’re a bit young to dress like that,” the look he receives from her could kill, “But yes, it’s pretty. Now let’s cast our eye over the to-do list.”

The two of them move back onto the boat, darting about to check each item off in turn, “The hull is almost done. There’s a couple of breaches that need the most pressing repairs, but we can look at that later.”

“Got it.”

“The mainsail is ready, and the mizzen will be done soon too. We’ll have to make a trip to the laundry in the Passage of Flies.”

“Aaaand, got that down too.”

He leads her across the boat as she hastily writes down everything her father mentions, “The main thing is to finish the masts. The part with the top and the foresail is finished, and I’ve also spotted a palm tree a few days ago that would be perfect for the mizzen mast….”

“There’s almost no palm trees left…” Elaine thinks out loud to herself as Black Ink heads through a door. She follows, gasping in excitement as she looks around the room, “The cabin is so welcoming! We’ve even got a sexant!”

The Kralove snatches the device from her hands, “A _sextant,_ Missy. I inherited it when I was no higher than a Kralove. When we get out of here, I’ll teach you how to use it.”

“And what do you think of my room?” she’s not been listening from the moment he took the sextant from her, distracted by her eagerness to show off her quarters. She spreads her arms wide to a room decorated in all manner of pirate-related paraphernalia, including her most treasured possession - a poster of the famous pirate Dakaan.

“Delightful!”

“Do you think that Dakaan would think I’m beautiful in this dress?”

Black Ink smiles, “Of course!”

“He’d better!” she shouts, wielding the quill from her pen at the poster as though it were a sword, then taking the pirate’s picture from the wall and embracing it tightly, “Oh, Dakann, my handsome Dakaan!”

“I think it’s best we carry on,” a quiet chuckle comes from the Kralove’s mouth as he moves below deck, “The hold is rather empty, but we can fix that by raiding our dear Governor’s supplies at Skittle Port.”

“Sturgeon eggs, yum!”

The Kralove walks further on, “Next, the cannons. We don’t have cannons, and without them there won’t be any raiding, no supplies, no gold, nothing at all.”

“They’re pretty,” Elaine rubs a hand over the cannon next to her, “It’s a shame they’re made of wood.”

“They’re fake. I spent a week pulling the splinters out after I tried to test them,” he gazes at the floor, slightly embarrassed.

“Who would make wooden cannons?”

“The same people who made the rest of the boat, I suppose. It’s all made of wood, even the stays and the anchor. It’s very odd.”

The girl bursts into laughter, dramatically hugging the wooden cannon, “It’s weird, but we love this boat because it’s our very own!”

“We’ll need proper weapons to launch an attack. Anyway, next stop, the fo’c’sle.”

“Cannons, right. Got it,” she returns to making the to-do list and follows her father into the forward part of the ship, passing a couple of paint buckets that make her stop for a moment, “Captain, I think I have an idea!”


End file.
